Scorned by the Serpent; Forged by the Wind

...~OC thoughts Pov~...

I passed the Love Hashira training on my first day.

My first day! I should be happy, right?

But honestly... I wish I could've stayed just a little longer.

Training with Kanroji-sama was so memorable in sorts of ways. Her smile, her energy, her kindness, everything about her made it feel less like training and more like a bonding experience. Well, maybe that's because stretching didn't hurt the hell out of me.

Yet rules are rules, and I have to keep going.

Next up?

Swordsmanship training with the Serpent Hashira.

Still, I got some good news! Lady Kanroji invited me to visit whenever I want, and she means it. I can stop by anytime! And even her little brother wants to hang out with me—How cute is that?

But then, things took an unexpected turn.

The next day, instead of heading to Iguro, I was told to go straight to Shinazugawa, the Wind Hashira.

Why, you ask?

Oh, because for some reason, the Serpent Hashira apparently refuses to see my face.

Turns out, after our eyes met for just a moment yesterday, he went digging into my background that I surely thought was hidden. He didn't get much out of his search, but he did found something. And guess what he found?

...That my late brother once bit a venomous snake to death.

Yeah. You heard me.

My brother killed a snake with his own teeth.

And Iguro? Absolutely offended.

So now, Master Kagaya has officially told us to avoid each other for a while to “prevent conflict.”

Lovely.

...~•~...

Sanemi Shinazugawa was already waiting for her in the training grounds, arms crossed, an impatient scowl on his face. His white hair was windswept, his scars more pronounced under the sharp sunlight.

She barely stepped onto the field when he barked at her.

"Took you long enough. If you're expecting me to go easy just because you're late to training, you're dead wrong."

She didn't flinch.

She knew his reputation well—his sharp tongue, his explosive temper, his sheer brutality in combat. But none of that scared her.

She bowes slightly, showing respect, but her expression remained unreadable.

Sanemi narrowed his eyes at her, scrutinizing every detail—her stance, her posture, the way she held herself.

"Tch. I heard you use Wind Breathing. Guess we'll see if you can back that up."

She said nothing, simply drawing her wooden blade.

Shinazugawa grinned, but there was nothing friendly about it.

"Alright then. We start with basics."

And just like that, the storm began.

Sanemi was furious. Honestly, this is more like an attempted murder than training.

She barely managed to parry his first strike, the force alone making her arms sting. He was relentless, pushing forward with raw power and precision.

She adjusted quickly, using her own agility to evade his powerful swings. Her movements were controlled, refined—every dodge, every block, calculated to minimize damage.

Sanemi noticed. His grin widened.

"Hah. Dodging ain't gonna win you a fight!"

Without warning, he closed the distance, shifting his attack pattern.

A feint—then a kick to her side.

She barely managed to block with her forearm, but the sheer force sent her skidding back. Her muscles ached, but she refused to show weakness.

Shinazugawa didn't stop. He was testing her. Watching how she reacted. How she adapted.

And as much as he played the part of an impatient brute—He was analyzing every move she made.

Her breathing remained steady. Her grip tightened around her sword.

If he wanted to test her, then so be it.

She wasn't about to break.

Not now. Not ever.

...~•~...

She steadied her footing, inhaling slowly to mask the pain flaring in her abdomen.

It hurts—more than she expected. The previous injury wasn't fully healed, and Sanemi's kick had landed right where the wound had been. her body was slower, weaker than usual.

But weakness wasn't an option.

Not here. Not now.

So she held back. Deliberately. Carefully.

She playes the part of a skilled, disciplined slayer—not the monster she became in the dark. Her movements were sharp but controlled, her strikes strong but predictable. Enough to impress, but not enough to stand out too much.

Yet, as much as she masked her true abilities, she couldn't mask the frustration bubbling beneath the surface. Because losing—especially to someone as insufferably snarky as Sanemi Shinazugawa—made her blood boil.

And he knew it.

"What's wrong? Tired?"

His tone was mocking, his smirk full of arrogance. He was baiting her, testing her patience, pushing her to react.

But she swallowed down the fire, forcing her expression to remain neutral.

Patience.

Restraint.

She couldn't afford to be reckless. She couldn't afford to slip.

So she grit her teeth, tightened her grip on her sword, and forced herself to keep playing the game.

Even if every fiber of her being wanted to tear through the storm instead.

...~•~...

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